


Five Rules To Remember

by darthrevaan (Burning_Nightingale)



Series: Pirates of A Galaxy Far Far Away [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pirates of the Caribbean Fusion, Gen, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/darthrevaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Obi-Wan Kenobi has a personal code when it comes to dealing with the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Rules To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually not what I intended to publish next, but I saw a Facebook post with these five rules and they struck me as _so_ pirate!Obi-Wan, I couldn't not. 
> 
> There maaaaay be timeline issues? Either with things I have published or things that are planned. If you do see anything, let me know. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

  1. _Forgive your enemy, but remember the bastard’s name._



Contrary to popular opinion, Captain Obi-Wan Kenobi was capable of understanding forgiveness.

Giving it, however, was another matter – even to the man who’d risked the Locker to save him.

Vos sauntered into the cabin, his usual swagger still firmly in place. “You reserve the right to brazenly accuse your comrades of betrayal at any time, do you?” he said, forgoing any sort of greeting.

“When there’s precedent,” Obi-Wan said pointedly.

Vos inspected one of the gilt Chandrilan bowls that littered one of the cabin’s shelves, making a disinterested noise. “You killed me. And then I saved you from the Locker. We’re even.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “I happen to agree. That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Vos turned and gave him a winning, if slightly sharp, smile. “You’re a pirate, and – as much as it pains me to admit it – a fairly decent one. You don’t trust anyone.”

“My goodness, did I detect a compliment in that sentence?” Obi-Wan asked, mockingly pressing a hand to his chest.

“That’s the only time you’ll hear it, so enjoy the moment.” Vos came over and sat down in the chair on the other side of Obi-Wan’s desk, and at least did him the courtesy of not swinging his feet up onto it. “In all seriousness,” he said, and suddenly Obi-Wan found himself looking at the rare sight of Quinlan Vos without any of his act, showmanship, or bluster. “I’m here for the Brethren Court, that’s all. I went all the way to the Locker to get you; I’m not going to space you before we get there.”

_You went all the way to the Locker to get my piece of eight_ , Obi-Wan thought, but didn’t say it aloud. He didn’t want to tip his hand so soon. Instead he said, “You’re Talzin’s man now.”

Vos shrugged. “She brought me back from the dead.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“And I don’t trust pit vipers,” Vos scoffed, “Is that supposed to be news?”

Obi-Wan held his gaze, and Vos stared right back, undeterred. Easy. A consummate liar, as always.

_I’m getting nothing out of him_ , Obi-Wan thought, sighing internally.

“Are you going to send me to the brig?” Vos asked in a low voice, “Or am I free to go?”

Obi-Wan waved a hand at the door. “Go. You haven’t done anything.” _Yet. But I’m watching you_. The words hung so obviously in the air Obi-Wan might as well have said them.

Vos grinned; it was, as usual, not a friendly expression. “Well. Good. I’m glad we’re on a level.”

Obi-Wan didn’t let out his held breath until the door of the cabin swished closed.

 

  1. _Money cannot buy happiness, but it’s more comfortable to cry in a starship than on a speeder bike_.



This, Obi-Wan reflected, had not been a good decision. In fact, it probably counted as the worst decision he’d ever made.

Which was fitting, because it looked to be his last.

Another flash of fire lit up the black of space as _Light’s Favour_ continued to break apart. Obi-Wan’s ship for three years; the youngest captain in the fleet. All gone now.

And he’d jettisoned himself in an _escape pod_. The _Vengeance_ would be coming about right at this very moment, and he’d be in range of their turbolaser batteries in under a minute. He may as well have gone down with his ship.

_It can’t end like this_. The thought circled frantically around his head, but there was nothing he could _do_ ; the escape pod had some severely limited directional controls, but it was about as far from a starfighter as a bantha from a nexu.

He sat in front of the controls, waiting with a slowly heightening sense of dread for the lock-on warning he knew would come. _What’s next? Heaven, hell? The Locker?_

Obi-Wan started. The Locker. _Of course_.

It was mad, crazy, completely insane – but at this point, he had little left to loose.

Closing his eyes – and feeling incredibly stupid – he said aloud the words Quinlan had told him so long ago, when they were in some shadowy Nar Shaddaa bar and both deep in their cups.

“Dooku, Captain of the Night, Master of the Locker, Arbiter of Life and Death in the Void,” he intoned, “Hear my humble plea. My life is near its end, but I do not wish to die. I wish to strike you a deal, in the tradition of the Brethren.”

All of a sudden the pod was very, very cold.

Obi-Wan cracked one eye open and recoiled, hitting his back on the wall behind him. Sithspit, it had actually _worked_.

“That cruiser is almost in range,” the imposing, masked figure said in a voice as smooth as flowing water. “You had best make your demands quickly.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. “My ship, whole and raised, and…fast. The fastest and most dangerous ship in space,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “And…thirteen human years to captain her.”

Dooku inclined his head. “Acceptable. In return, I demand one hundred years of service.” Obi-Wan swallowed. _A hundred years is a long time_. “Or,” Dooku added, almost as an afterthought, “One hundred souls, to be bound to my service forever.” He held out a gloved hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, and in that moment, the lock-on alarm started to blare. He had seconds to decide.

_Can’t fly if you don’t risk falling_.

He reached out and shook Dooku’s hand.

 

  1. _Help someone when they’re in trouble, and they’ll remember you when they’re in trouble again_.



 “At what point in all our previous encounters, my dear master Skywalker, did I give you the impression you could come to me when you were in need?”

Anakin looked weary, battered, and not a little pissed off, which, considering the day they’d had, was understandable. “I help rescue you from Ewoks,” he said incredulously, “And _that’s_ the first question you ask?”

“It is a pertinent one,” Obi-Wan countered.

Anakin sighed long-sufferingly. “I don’t want to ask a favour,” he said tiredly, “I want to make a deal.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan smiled. “Now you’re speaking my language. Clean yourself up, then come up to my cabin and we’ll talk further.”

Obi-Wan was intrigued, actually, by the reappearance of Anakin Skywalker. He had imagined him to be safe and happily married to Padmé on their idyllic Rim planet, skipping through meadows and planning hundreds of little children. Seeing him out here…well.

Perhaps the lure of the void was not so easily tamed.

It took Anakin only half an hour to clean up and change. He knocked politely on Obi-Wan’s door, and strode inside with a confidence that Obi-Wan had rarely seen him employ. He sat down in the chair opposite Obi-Wan’s desk and said without preamble, “Padmé has been arrested.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan put down the datapad he’d been reading from. “So again, you are mired in lady troubles.”

Anakin gave him a withering look. “She’s in _prison_ , Obi-Wan.”

“A most distressing damsel to have fallen for, I don’t doubt.”

Anakin grit his teeth and swallowed whatever angry remark he obviously wanted desperately to make. “This is _serious_ , she’s in danger. She’s going to be-”

“Executed,” Obi-Wan finished. At Anakin’s questioning look, he continued, “She’s been charged with piracy, no? It is a common catch-all charge for any number of sins. And,” he added as an afterthought, “a crime she did, in fact, commit. In a roundabout sort of way.”

“She didn’t-”

“If this deal involves rescuing her from an Imperial prison,” Obi-Wan interrupted firmly, “then I am afraid there is nigh on nothing you can promise me to persuade me into it.”

Anakin shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I want to make a trade.” He took a deep breath. “I made a deal with an…official of the Empire. If I bring him your compass, he’ll drop the charges against Padmé and me.”

_The compass?_ Obi-Wan felt a flash of foreboding. How did some Imperial officer know about his compass? “Anakin, you can buy a compass from any number of reputable antique shops,” he said, trying to play it off as a joke.

Anakin’s face was set and serious. “Don’t play coy with me, Obi-Wan. I want _your_ compass; the one that points to ‘your heart’s desire’, or whatever it is.”

_Damn_. “That’s a mighty high price,” Obi-Wan said dubiously.

“I’ll give you anything you want in return,” Anakin said sincerely.

“ _That_ is a mighty dangerous thing to say to a pirate,” Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow.

“If it’s for Padmé, nothing is too much,” Anakin said, completely, transparently truthful.

Obi-Wan sighed. _I suppose that’s true love_. The thought made his chest a little tight. He leant back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling for a moment, thinking. Something he needed…what did he need?

The answer came immediately. _The key_. Dooku kept it on his ship, probably on his person, at all times – and Obi-Wan couldn’t board his ship without agreeing to serve for a hundred years. He needed someone else to join Dooku’s crew, someone else to acquire the key.

The dim, bruised whisper that was his conscience flickered to life for a moment. _He’s a child. Dooku and his crew will eat him alive_.

He brushed it aside. _He promised_ anything _to a pirate; he’ll have to deal with the consequences. Besides_ , he looked Anakin up and down, _he’s more than he looks_.

“Alright, Anakin Skywalker,” he said aloud, “You have a deal.”

Anakin frowned. “You’re not going to tell me what you want?”

“I have something in mind,” Obi-Wan deferred, “Now. Shake?” He held out his hand.

With only the slightest hesitation, Anakin shook it.

“Now, get below and find yourself a bunk. Then talk to Phadra about shifts and rotas.”

Anakin made a face. “You’re pressganging me into your crew again, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan indicated himself with a wide smile. “ _Pirate_.”

 

  1. _Many people are alive only because it’s illegal to shoot them_.



When Obi-Wan stormed out of the Council chamber, he intended to leave Shipwreck Cove as quickly as humanly possible.

Bant catching up to him and calling his name slowed him down, but didn’t stop him.

“Obi-Wan, just hold on.” His childhood friend caught his arm, trying to gently pull him to a stop.

He shook her off. “Why, Bant? So they can tell me more about how corrupted I am? So they can debate a little bit longer about throwing me in jail?”

“They’re scared,” Bant said, grabbing his arm again and holding on with an iron grip that finally managed to stop him. “They were betrayed by a dark sider, if they suspect another-”

“No, Bant, _we_ were betrayed by a dark sider. I was there, remember? I ran when the Temple fell, I left everything behind just as much as _they_ did.” Obi-Wan paused, for a moment too angry to speak. “ _He_ _destroyed my life too_.”

Even with both their shields between them he could feel Bant’s wave of sorrow, see it in her eyes. “I know. Sidious destroyed everything, for every Jedi. But you know some of them…us…have turned to unsavoury professions.”

“Not out of choice,” Obi-Wan spat. “I _had_ to become a pirate, because the Order _abandoned_ me. Apparently I was forgettable enough that no one bothered to look for me, but now when I return, having managed to survive and _make_ something of myself might I add, _now_ I’m interesting enough that the entire Council needs to debate my future.”

“That’s not true,” Bant said, anger colouring her words, “We _did_ look for you, we spent months looking for you! It wasn’t exactly easy to do, either!”

“I’d believe that you looked for me,” Obi-Wan allowed – leaving unsaid the ‘ _they wouldn’t_ ’.

“You’re the first Jedi who left who’s tried to come back,” Bant said, “Don’t you think they have a right to question your motives?”

“They have questioned my motives. They’ve questioned my motives _extensively_ , and you know what they asked most?” Obi-Wan fought the urge to laugh. “‘ _Why didn’t you come back_?’ As if I had a choice! Do you know my question, Bant?” His voice rose, almost to the point of shouting, “Why didn’t you come and _find me_?!”

She looked stricken. “Obi-Wan-”

“You knew where I was!” he accused, “After the Sack of Lenhur _everyone_ knew who I was, every pirate was talking about it, and I _know_ the Jedi were connected with them even then. So why didn’t you contact me? Why didn’t you even _try_?”

“We were in seclusion, contact was motioned and as I _said_ , many Jedi had been cropping up as criminals and we just thought you were one of them!”

“I _am_ one of them,” Obi-Wan hissed, “And trust me, if this weren’t Shipwreck Cove, I would have killed someone by now.” Bant flinched backward, but Obi-Wan didn’t stop. “If I weren’t a pirate lord and Jedi weren’t protected as allies…but that’s why they stooped to talking to me, isn’t it? Because they want to use me against the pirates.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “At least this visit has made it clear who is and who isn’t on my side.”

Her grip had loosened, and when he shrugged her off and brushed past she made no move to stop him. “Obi-Wan,” she called, just before he reached the end of the corridor, “If I’d known you wanted to come back…”

“They wouldn’t have let me in anyway,” Obi-Wan said, pausing just long enough to speak, “But I suppose the thought counts.”

 

  1. _Alcohol does not solve any problems, but then again, neither does milk._



“Another, sir?” the barmaid asked.

“At this point, my dear, I think my wanting another should simply be assumed,” Obi-Wan said tiredly, moving his glass towards her.

“Bad night at the card table?” she asked sympathetically, pouring him some more rum.

“A common but infinitely lamentable condition,” Obi-Wan said, clumsily toasting her before sipping from the glass. “Made much more complex by the fact that the winner of my unfortunate game happens to be none other than Captain Jau himself.”

The barmaid’s eyes widened. “That _is_ trouble, sir, and no mistake.”

“Isn’t it just?” Obi-Wan sighed, wiping a hand down his face, then glanced over the barroom and winced. “And here he comes now. How unfortunate. I’m afraid I can only promise, my dear, to _try_ and prevent violent outbursts, though I will try to limit the damage to your lovely establishment.”

The barmaid shrugged. “It’s the boss’ establishment, and we have fights in here most nights,” she said, unconcerned.

“I suppose I should have expected that answer,” Obi-Wan said – and then Jau was right next to him.

“Kenobi,” the old Pyke drawled, blowing a puff of noxious smoke out between his lips as he spoke. “I know you don’t have enough to pay me back.”

“Well, at least we’re starting on the same page,” Obi-Wan said brightly, standing slowly from his barstool – and trying not to wobble.

“In fact, I knew you didn’t have enough to pay me when we started making bets,” Jau said, his mouth a slit of a smile.

Obi-Wan’s heart sank. “You have something in mind,” he said, trying and failing not to sound dubious. _And you were probably cheating. Sithspit._

Jau’s grin had far too many teeth for Obi-Wan’s liking. “You’re right! I do have a little task in mind, and if you performed it, I would consider your debt fulfilled.”

“Well then.” Obi-Wan downed his glass and set it firmly back on the bar, “We’d best talk business.”

The barmaid held the bottle of rum over the glass questioningly, and Obi-Wan considered for a moment. Probably better to be as sober as possible…even though he was already drunk.

Well. One more glass wouldn’t make much difference. He nodded to her, and then, glass in hand, followed Jau and his cronies to a table in a dark corner of the room.

“So,” Obi-Wan said as he made himself comfortable, “Something the great Sheng Jau can’t do himself? This should be interesting.”

“An interesting challenge, certainly,” Jau smiled. “I need you to steal from Kaj Zishel.”

Obi-Wan didn’t choke on his rum, but it was a near thing. He managed to keep his voice calm, however. “Steal from Zishel? That’s a tall order – maybe a little too tall to repay a gambling debt.”

“Is it?” Jau asked. Obi-Wan heard a vibroknife crackle pointedly to life behind his head. “What with all you owe me,” Jau continued, casually inspecting a knife of his own as he spoke, “ _Especially_ considering the gambling debts you incurred the _last_ time we played, which I graciously agreed to let you pay at a later date…”

“Well, depending on the value of the item in question, and its security,” Obi-Wan continued, keeping his manner casual. “Something must be lax, if you think _I_ can break in and steal it.”

“You’re the one who made it out of the Sack of Lenhur without firing a shot,” Jau said silkily, “I’m sure you can work something out.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan took another sip of his drink to hide his unease. “So, I’ll need to know what I’m stealing if I’m going to, well, steal it.”

“Of course.” Jau leant back in his seat, looking very satisfied. “It’s a book. An old one, made of ink and paper, not holographic. Zishel has newly acquired it; he doesn’t know what secrets it holds, but I do. It is in my interest not to let him gain an understanding of what that book contains.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan tilted his head. “And you can’t send one of your men to acquire this…why?”

“I simply don’t want this crime linked back to me,” Jau said, all languid nonchalance.

Jau and Zishel were rivals when it came to the collection and study of ancient artefacts – Obi-Wan could see where openly stealing from each other might cause conflict. “Fine,” he said, resisting the urge to sigh, “Where is it?”

“He took it to his holiday retreat on Jasahour, I believe,” Jau said, “A small complex, not as much trouble to get into as his main estate. But you’d best be quick; he’ll only be there two or three more weeks.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan stood, ignoring the way Jau’s guards tensed when he did. “I’ll bring the book back to your main compound as soon as I have it.”

“Wonderful.” Jau smiled his unsettling many-toothed smile again. “And Captain Kenobi, remember. Gambling deals can be dealt with between friends, but failed favours…well…”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said shortly. “You’ll get your book.” He upended the last of his rum into his mouth, then turned and pushed through Jau’s guards, making for the door.

He grit his teeth as the faint sound of Jau’s laughter floated after him. Vos was going to _hate_ him for this.

**Author's Note:**

> These should assist you with most daily decision choices :D 
> 
> Obviously I changed #2 to make it Star Wars compatible - the original was "Money cannot buy happiness, but it's more comfortable to cry in a Mercedes than on a bicycle". 
> 
> Any questions, comments, prompts, discussion can be left here or directed to my tumblr at https://darthrevaan.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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